


Under Indigo Lights

by libreyry



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Frank Castle - Freeform, Humor, Marvel - Freeform, Original Character - Freeform, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Semi Slow-Burn, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libreyry/pseuds/libreyry
Summary: "Really, he’s not anxious because of her for any bad reason. Well, not bad on her part. She’s so bubbly and inviting and intense and she makes him want to open up to her and answer any question she might ask. And that’s dangerous for a man who wants to lay low, a man who wants to clock in, clock out, no questions asked and no friends made."





	1. Chapter 1

            A librarian in New York. Special, but not uncommon. Uncommon might be a librarian as enthusiastic as Stevie. She’s a complete and utter spaz. It’s surprising that the library is probably the neatest in all of New York State because she’s never in the same place for long. Sometimes she’ll lose herself while she’s logging or looking for new books, but it’s pretty… difficult to get her to focus. People are always surprised that the stack of books on her dark, cherry wood desk is for _her_ to read.

            Stevie never realizes it but she’s an incredibly likeable person. Half the people that show up at Indigo Library pass at least one other library and three bookstores on the way. People make special trips completely out of their way just to be graced by Stevie’s smile and hurried sentences. Her stories are like road trips with lots of pit stops, throwing in a side note here and background story there. But nobody minds because Stevie has this energy that leaves people desperate for more. And she’s absolutely _clueless_ to any of it.

            Stevie enjoys everybody else’s company just as much as they enjoy hers: if that’s even possible. She’s an extrovert in every sense of the word. She yearns to hear her customers’ stories, reviews, and rants just as much as they crave one, just _one_ sly wink as they walk past her desk. The moment she secured her degree in library sciences that qualified her for an assistant position at Indigo, she had never truly worked. _If you do what you love, you will never work a day in your life._

            A woman about 35 walked up and sat a reusable shopping back on the counter. “Let’s see your newest obsession, Mrs. Greene…” Stevie smiled and pulled the books from the bag. “Historical fiction, thriller. Not too niche. It’ll make it easier on me when I order the next round of books for you.” Stevie laughed and pushed all the books over the glass panel, watching the computer screen as titles flashed up under the “Check-Out” column.

            From the corner of her eye, Stevie saw two tiny hands push a stack of chapter books just over the edge of the counter. She stood up just a bit, bent at the knees, as she looked over the counter and down at the little girl below her. “Hi, Miss Violet.” Stevie smiled even wider than before.

            “I told you, that’s not my name!” Violet fake-pouted and looked up at Stevie.

            “But it is, your momma told me so.” Stevie teased.

            “Well, it’s what she wants me to be called. But it’s stupid. Who gets named after a flower?!” Violet seemed outraged and Stevie just laughed as she thought of the other half of the world named after a flower, or even two. She held her arms down over the counter and Violet wrapped her hands around the librarian’s wrists. She pulled the little girl up and sat her on the counter.

            “Do you know my name?” Violet nodded, ready for Stevie’s words of wisdom. “Do you like it?” Violet nodded again. “I used to hate it. Hate hate haaated my name. Because I thought it was a boy’s name. But then I liked it because I didn’t know anybody else who had my name. So that made me feel special. Because you know how there’s like… a million people in your class named Emily? Nobody got me mixed up with anybody else.” Violet was wide-eyed, stuck in a Stevie-induced daze. “So there might be one other Violet, or two, but I don’t think you’ll meet them. Your momma made you all kinds of special.” Mrs. Greene was watching the interaction just as closely as her daughter was listening to Stevie talk.

            “Well,” Violet pursed her lips while she thought. “I guess it’s not so bad.”

            “Yeah, you could be named Stevie.” Stevie laughed and pinched Violet’s sides. Violet giggled and slid off the counter to escape Stevie’s _devilish_ wrath. Mrs. Greene ruffled her daughter’s hair and mouthed a silent “thanks” to Stevie. She bagged all the books up, including all of the chapter books she scanned once Violet was off the counter and handed it to Mrs. Greene. Stevie waved off the mother-daughter duo and grabbed a piece of peppermint gum from beside her sticky notes.

            She punched some things into the computer and looked up to welcome her next customer. She was shocked when she couldn’t recognize the man who stood in front of her. It was pleasant shock, though. This meant she had a whole new person she could talk to and learn about, with nobody in line behind him! He had a rough exterior, but that didn’t deter Stevie at all. If anything, it pulled her in closer because she wanted to find out this mysterious man’s secrets.

            “Do you have anything on uh… PTSD?” His voice was gruff and Stevie decided she’d get as much as she could out of this man just so she could hear the grit in his words.

            “I’m sure I do! I’ll look it up right here.” Stevie’s wearing the same bright smile she always does. She looks to the screen and pulls her glasses down over her eyes while she types, muttering to herself _PTSD, PTSD,_ and then trailing off.

            “We’ve got quite the selection, upstairs and just walk straight. They should hit you right in the nose. Mental health is that whole section, so there’s other stuff for anxiety, depression…” She squints back at the screen. “OCD. If you need anything just let me know, ‘kay?” The man purses his lips in an attempt to smile or at least be courteous. He seems to hesitate before he takes off up the stairs, so Stevie uses the opportunity to her advantage. “You’ve not come here before, right? I’m really good with faces, and I don’t remember yours so…”

            He’s caught off guard and looks sort of bewildered. His eyebrows furrow at Stevie. She’s resting her elbows on the counter while she pops her gum with talent, waiting excitedly for her newfound friend to answer. “Yeah… I don’t come to libraries much. Not my scene.” He seems anxious. How could this man be anxious around Stevie?

            Really, he’s not anxious because of her for any bad reason. Well, bad on her part. She’s so bubbly and inviting and intense and she makes him want to open up to her and answer any question she might ask. And that’s dangerous for a man who wants to lay low, a man who wants to clock in, clock out, no questions asked and no friends made.

            “Truth is, I never thought I’d be a library person. I’m sure you don’t think that either. But if there’s room in here for someone like me, there’s room in here for someone like you.” She leans back in her chair and inspects him. “You’re quiet. And don’t wanna be seen. There's plenty of places for you to hide in here.” She winked. Oh _god_ , she winked. It was friendly, all in good fun, but she made him wish it wasn’t. “What’s your name? So I can introduce myself.” The man looked suspiciously down at the tiny hand she extended across the counter toward him.

            “Frank.” He carefully wrapped his large, calloused hand around hers to let her shake it. Frank didn’t want to take the lead on this handshake, because if he did he’d break her small, ceramic-like hand and then there would be an ambulance, which means he’d probably be noticed and nobody needed that.

            “Frank. S’okay, I like it. I’m Stevie.” Her handshake was firmer than Frank anticipated, but it’s not like it would do anything to his hand anyway. His hands were far too calloused to take any serious damage at this point. He gave her another tight-lipped “smile,” this time with a nod, and made his way up the stairs. Straight back, right at his nose.


	2. Chapter 2

           Stevie watched nosily from behind her computer screen.  _Frank… I really like it. He’s not homeless; he’s too comfortable. Just rough around the edges._ His steps were heavy and echoed throughout the library. All of his sounds bounced from one glossy wooden beam to the next. She watched his movements. Very sure but not very precise. He’s like a giant playing with a little tea set. He scanned the front and back of several books and fumbled with the pages. Eventually, Frank tucked a thin paperback under his arm and walked back down the steps.

 

            He eyed the first floor and all the tables that were lined in twos. He looked disappointed but mostly irritated. Stevie knew what he needed. “Hey!” She whispered, motioning him over with her finger.

 

            Frank turned quickly to Stevie. Before he could even think, he was walking in her direction. It was like she was magic. She was a siren pulling in her captive. No siren had ever been so kind or so genuine, though. He still maintained his distance from the counter. He wouldn’t dare let his guard down and lean in. He never got close: physically or emotionally _. Getting close is dangerous. Something bad always happens, there’s no stopping it._

“Go hide.” Stevie giggled to herself. He knew she understood him, but for the wrong reasons. He saw her good heart; he knew she probably hid for reasons she couldn’t help. Her good heart was blind to his atrocities. She didn’t outstretch her arm completely, only pointed to the left corner of the library from above the keyboard. He nodded once more and turned to walk away.

 

            Frank dodged tables and chairs to sink behind bookshelves lined with dust-covered almanacs. There were three old claw foot chairs lined with damask fabric. He settled back into one, his large frame causing the furniture to creak and groan until he got comfortable. Reluctantly, he began to read the first chapter. Its subtitle, “Addressing the Root.”

 

            Frank looked intently at the pages as if the words were telling him something else that he couldn’t quite make out. He quietly closed the book when he heard feet shuffling on the rug near him. His guard was up, but he was relieved to see Stevie walk around the tall shelf. She had two books in her left arm. “Hey, sunshine.” She snickered at her own sarcasm. “Maybe this will help.” She walked as close as she could to Frank’s chair and sat the new book on top of his chosen one.  _The War on PTSD: Veterans and PTSD. Veteran? She can’t know who I am, no way. Fuck._ He parted his lips, but she took a step back and spoke first.

 

            “The boots kinda gave it away. My dad was Army, then a cop.” Stevie gave a half grin and settled back into the chair furthest from him.

 

            Frank decided to avoid the topic as he always did. “I thought hide meant get away from people.” He didn’t mean to be a dick, but it definitely came across that way. All he hoped was that this fairy angel librarian lady wouldn’t further investigate him. All he wanted was to avoid arrest or anything worse.

           

            “Sometimes people hide together,” Stevie flexed the book and flipped through the pages, relishing in the tiny gust of wind that hit her face. “But maybe I like you. Even though you seem to be short on tact right now.” Frank’s cheeks reddened. _No, no, not getting attached to this girl, not showing weakness. Just get her to leave,_ he thought.

 

            “I’ve got plenty of tact, sweetheart,” Stevie leaned back in her seat and smiled. Frank’s heart melted. The smile. It was so soft and genuine, just like Maria’s. He pushed those feelings back and continued. “Just wanna be left alone.” He grabbed the book he had originally chosen, found his place, and pretended to read.

 

            “Okay then, Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Stevie sounded unbothered, which shocked Frank. He was used to everybody taking him and his words so seriously. He was used to being seen as an asshole because he did everything he could to avoid making friends or securing personal connections. But he could tell now that Stevie wasn’t as sensitive as everybody else, or as she might seem to be. “I’ll leave you to it.”

 

            She hummed quietly the whole way to the desk. Frank watched every step she took from the old chair, through the tables and shelves, behind the counter, and into her seat behind the computer. Part of him regretted running her off. He hadn’t had good, meaningful conversation with someone in so long. But he always reminded himself of why he didn’t _let_ that happen, as hard as it sometimes was.

 

            He forced himself to focus and lose himself in the self-help book and all of its typical advice. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before. The daze he put his self in was quickly broken by the quiet bell that rang whenever someone entered or exited, the library. He couldn’t quite see who the two men were but he moved his head around the books to get a better view.

 

            They walked straight to the counter to Stevie. Frank saw the hesitation on her face when she spun in her chair to them, but put on a smile anyway. Apparently, her good heart _could_ sense some atrocities, because that’s exactly what these two men were. Frank focused to hear their voices across the library. “Have you seen this man? We saw him walk in here a few moments ago.” That voice was nothing he hadn’t heard before, either. They held a crinkled newspaper clipping and Frank knew without a doubt that it was himself.  

 

            Stevie squinted through her glasses at the picture and reached out toward the two men. “Do you mind?” She raised her eyebrows and took the clipping from the shorter man’s hand. _Fucking mafia._ He knew he would have to take care of them later. Frank’s vision went red for the split second that Stevie’s hand brushed the mafioso’s.

           

            His heart rate picked up, soaring higher and higher every second Stevie stared down at the picture in her hand. He checked any possible exits and hiding spots. He could slide behind this bookshelf to his left and along the back wall to the back door that was obstructed from the front desk’s view by the staircase. Fight or flight kicked in; he would have to flee so there wouldn’t be any witnesses when it was time to fight.

 

            “Nope,” Stevie popped the last syllable, “He hasn’t been here; I’ve never seen him before. Is there a number or somewhere I could come by if I see him? The police station? I’m really good with faces so you can keep the picture.” She sat the clipping face-up on the counter in front of the men.

 

            The taller man grumbled and huffed while the shorter man spoke once again. “Nah lady, thanks for your time.” He snatched the picture off the counter and pushed his friend out of the library with him.

 

            She could hear the tall one whispering defensively, “I swear to _God_ I saw him come in here. Honest, man.” Stevie smiled to herself. She had no idea who Frank really was or why those men wanted him. But she knew they were trouble and if she gave Frank up, _he’d_ be in trouble. Then she’d feel guilty forever, because she’s Stevie. Mentioning the police got them to leave really fast. They wanted to leave before she could remember too much and turn on them instead.

           

            Stevie waited a few minutes after they had left the library just in case. About seven minutes later, she went straight back to the sitting area she had sent Frank to. He was still there, nose in the book Stevie brought in case it was any less preachy and basic than the one he picked. She sat down in the chair that was closer to him this time.

 

            “So, military man, you’ve got people asking for you.” Stevie crossed her legs and cocked her eyebrow. Frank looked up at her, inconvenienced during his very heavy reading of 127 pages.

 

            “Probably just some friends. Phone’s broke.” He avoided Stevie’s curious stare.

 

            “I mean, my friends usually don’t carry around a picture of me from the newspaper to ask someone if they’ve ‘seen this woman.’” Stevie mocked the men in a pseudo-tough voice. “One time when I was little my dad lost me in Central Park. Well, he didn’t lose me. I just ran off. But he showed everybody the picture of me he kept in his wallet and _nobody_ had seen me. He started freaking out because my mom would’ve killed him if he came back home for lunch without me.

 

            “Guess where I went? I walked all the way to the dog park so I could take my little toy dog on a walk. It was in the opposite direction he looked, like two miles.” Stevie laughed airily with a twinkle in her eye. She was always remembering something: telling some story or asking some off-topic question or making some connection to this or that.

 

            Frank still avoided eye contact with her, but inside he laughed just a little. It reminded him of Lisa in some ways. “Listen, doll. You seem real sweet. Real talkative and open, but I’m not like that. And I’m not the kind of person you wanna get involved with. It’s better if we don’t cross paths. Okay?” Frank stood and held the two books out to Stevie.

 

            “Listen, _sir._ I like people and friends. I’ve got a lot of friends like you,” _Of course she does, how couldn’t she, fuckin’ everybody loves her,_ Frank thought. “So I like people like you, too. Come back at nine when I close, you can’t be that bad.” She paused and stood up, brushing past him to start walking back to her desk. But she stopped and looked over her shoulder, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Unless that’s too suspect for a mysterious super-secret agent.” She smirked, turned back around, and walked away. She didn’t give him the opportunity to respond to her jest.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie has a moment of raw transparency. She also learns Frank's true colors.

            Frank tipped his hat down and pulled the hood closer to his face. This was the closest thing he had to a date in god knows how long. _If_ it’s even a date. He highly doubts it is. _She’s just nice. She’s probably committed to a life of celibacy or somethin’._ If she does think it’s something like a date, there definitely won’t be another one. He’ll make himself just unlikeable enough so that she doesn’t hate his guts but can slyly dismiss him and not interact with him ever again.

 

            He considered turning around at every crack in the sidewalk. Why did she invite him back, and what did she want with him? What’s so perfect, extraordinary about Frank to her? This seemed too good to be true. Actually, it didn’t even seem _good._ It seemed like a fantasy, a dream, some weird meet cute. It didn’t seem like a normal interaction between two normal adults. Well, one normal adult. But from the minute Frank engaged in rather one-sided conversation with her he could tell that she wasn’t as normal or generic as he anticipated.

 

            The library was now in sight, only a few blocks away. His anxiety increased as he neared the indigo-colored neon sign, fittingly advertising “The Indigo Library.” The closer he got the less control he had. As much as Frank denied it in every part of his mind, he yearned for normalcy. Sometimes he would wish and pray that he could have his pre-deployment life back. But Frank wasn’t easy on himself, so he would always roughly remind himself that this was the way things had to be and they were undoubtedly because of his actions.

 

            His thoughts tricked him; they busied his mind so that by the time he was at the door Stevie had already spotted him. There was no turning back now. He couldn’t just turn and disappear down some alley. He could, but he didn’t need to seem any more of an asshole than he made himself earlier.

 

            Stevie’s face could’ve lit up a country field at midnight. Frank felt something in his heart that was familiar but far off. Nobody was ever excited to see him, to find him. They were eager for his head on a plate, for his lifeless body stomped out and tossed in a dumpster: unrecognizable. But Stevie wasn’t like that. She was excited to see him with a pulse and all extremities attached.

 

            It seemed like she couldn’t unlock the door fast enough, as she grew frustrated, quickly, with the keys. Frank couldn’t help but smirk at her tiny fury. What she would do if she were mad enough, he didn’t know, but he knew it couldn’t be too fearsome. Once unlocked, she swung the wooden door wide open and beamed at him again. “Welcome to the after-hours show.” He forced another smile and maneuvered his broad body through the door past her. Stevie locked the door back. “I don’t think we want any more visitors right now, huh?”

 

            She motioned him to follow her and he did so rather closely. They walked behind the stairs and through the same door Frank had noted earlier as his exit. It opened into a short hallway. There was an emergency exit straight back, and two doors on each side of the hall. Stevie opened the door immediately to their right and walked ahead to the desk that sat in the middle of the room. She sat behind it in her chair as Frank imagined she always did after a day of work. This left him sitting in front of her in an admittedly comfy chair, giving him a sort of doctor-patient feeling that brought a bitter taste to his mouth. He swallowed it back as she brought the mug of coffee on his side of her desk to attention.

 

            “I went ahead and made some,” She took a sip of hers, milky-sweet. “I don’t know how you like it so I just left it.” He nodded and took the coffee gratefully. There was never a time that coffee wasn’t appreciated in his book. _Especially when it’s this good._ “So whose back story first?” She leaned back in the chair like she had many times before, nearly desperate for it to be _his_ first and finally learn something, _anything_ about this man.

 

            “Can I trust you with mine?” Stevie took that as a sign that hers would have to come first. Foiled again.

 

            “Okay, well, I’ll start with something kind of personal I guess. It might not be too personal since it’s kind of out in the open.” She pushed her hair and traced her finger from the side of her neck and down to the center in the middle of her sternum. And in fact, had she not been wearing a sweater in this forsaken cold, Frank would’ve seen the thick scar. “When I was 17 my mom and I were going on a road trip. I don’t even remember where. But we were at this intersection in some town and this 18-wheeler just came _barreling_ through a red light.

 

            “We were already in the middle of the road and he just ran right over our car. My mom died on impact, and I was completely ejected. Totally thrown out of the car. The scar is from being ejected, I think, where it caught glass on my way out. I was in a coma for almost seven months, so while I was in the hospital my dad requested leave while he was deployed. They almost didn’t let him, but he pulled some strings and threw on some charm. He never ended up going back like he was supposed to and he went to the police academy. A few years ago a drunk driver hit him. They got him stabilized and all that in the hospital but for some reason, he just couldn’t pull through.”

 

            Stevie wasn’t crying but Frank heard the tears enough in her voice. Once her story was over, she quieted immediately and took a gulp from the mug. She swallowed thickly and held the mug against her chest. “I wasn’t always like this. You know, bigmouthed and annoying,” She laughed pitifully, “I used to be really depressed. Awful. And you would think I’d be depressed after a coma and waking up to just one parent, right? But I wasn’t. Something happened, it’s like I had my sense knocked back into me. Once I woke up I took that chance to change myself, so I could make my life better and be the person to make other people’s life better, or day, at the least.”

 

            She let one tear roll down her cheek. Just one little tear left a glistening trail down her soft, peach-fuzzed skin. She wiped it quickly. It was dismissive, as if she was telling it _not now._ She could bless even a teardrop _. A damn tear._

“And I’ve not had the best experience with guys. But that’s maybe for another day. I don’t want you to think I’m some dingbat who invited you here to watch me cry.” She managed to put on her famous Stevie smile. That smile was always genuine. Her aura was genuine. The people around her, the furniture she brushed, right down to the molecules of oxygen in the air were wonderfully vexed by her presence.            

 

            Frank decided to speak up. “I guess I owe you one. And if you’re gonna be around me, I gotta let you know the rules. You can’t tell _anyone_ what I’m about to tell you. God, what am I doing?” He questioned his self and rubbed one hand over his face. “I don’t know how to… everybody thinks I’m dead, okay? I was in the Marines. When I came back, someone killed my family. I had a wife and kids. That I loved so much, more than anything. And they did it right in front of me. Imagine that, right? Being a soldier, coming back, you’ve got shit on your mind because you just killed hundreds of people.

 

            “Then you come home, think you might be safer from your thoughts here. But the next people you see die are your family _right_ in front of you.” Stevie’s brow was furrowed and she donned the smallest of frowns. It wasn’t disapproval; it was concern and interest. She cared to listen to every listed detail of Frank’s life. “So I…I had to do something about it. It was probably my fault, hell, I know it is. Something I did over there,” Frank pointed his arm outward, then brought it back in. “Followed me back here. I found what followed me.” It seemed as though the story had ended abruptly. Stevie stewed in her mind over words to say. Before she could think to open her mouth, Frank started again.

 

            “I killed them,” Frank said it so casually. He recited it like it was the alphabet, his full name, a bible verse. He took a long drink from the tiny mug as Stevie nearly dropped hers. Coffee splashed over the brim as she was forced to shove the cup onto her desk or send it to its sharp death on the floor.

 

            “You  _killed_ them?!” Stevie reiterated. She didn’t need confirmation. Nobody was that good of an actor; Frank meant what he said. She was shocked. There was so much and so little going through her mind all at once. Her lips stayed parted as she mulled through every word she’d ever learned to find _something_ to say. _Anything, Stevie, c’mon girl._ She’d come up out of her seat and not even known. Her hands were open, fingertips smudging the glass that protected her so beloved desk from rogue-cups gone without a coaster. She seated herself for the second time since being in that room.

 

            “I’ll go. Just pretend like this never happened, m’kay? I'm dead to anybody who asks. Never met, never talked, none of this happened.” Frank sat his half-empty, or half-full he could never tell, cup on the desk and stood. His fingers were on the doorknob and had halfway turned it before Stevie spoke again, this time meekly.

 

            “No.” Had Frank been any further out the door he wouldn’t have heard her small plea. “Stay, you can talk to me. I won’t tell a living soul. Or a dead one.” She pulled her legs under herself in the chair and sat crisscrossed. When he turned to look at her, he couldn’t help but laugh. Out loud this time.

 

            At this, Stevie looked confused. “What’s funny?” She questioned. She was leaning forward in the chair, hoping for another story. She knew she should be scared. Stevie knew she should probably kick this man out, perform a citizen’s arrest, call the police, _something._ But instead, she wished him back and readied herself for more stories like it’s afternoon tea. There was something about Frank that Stevie found irresistible. Was it because of the fact that he probably, simply was a man she shouldn’t have? Or was it something deeper?

 

            It had to be deeper, Stevie _felt_ it. Stevie felt everything. If she were any more empathetic she would probably be clairvoyant. Maybe the fact that she couldn’t explain this feeling said more than if there were a known reason. Someone so in tune with emotion couldn’t even describe it, and she quickly came to the conclusion that it indeed did say more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank has his own moment of transparency, "weakness" he would call it, and Stevie takes the lead.

            Something had happened. Something in Frank clicked; the dam broke and he let Stevie in on more than he had ever even thought about telling someone, which still wasn’t much. Frank thought things would be this way forever. He thought that he’d be able to keep everything bottled up, stay in solitude, and ignore any feeling until the day he died. But he told her about all of his actions that he had put under the guise of revenge.

 

            Stevie saw it was more than revenge. Frank was _scared._ He was scared in his own way, unlike the normal fear that everyday people feel. He was angry. He was absolutely furious, and killing those he knew had done something wrong was cathartic for him. Some people do yoga, smoke cigarettes, but Frank’s catharsis was _killing._ It wasn’t just anybody, nobody ever died just for the hell of it. Frank was some sort of vigilante. He didn’t put a label on it, and Stevie had a hard time even finding one, but that was as close a label as she could find.

 

            The dam had broken. Well, it was more like a tiny crack. But once the water stopped flowing, Frank’s “shell” hardened again and he clammed up. The two of them sat in the quiet for what seemed like forever. Frank was trying to cope with the fact that he had just told somebody, anybody, about his current… predicament and Stevie was trying to digest what she had just been told. And the fact that technically, there was a criminal sitting right in her office. But Stevie told herself she’d be damned if she turned him into the police, or those men, or anybody else.

 

            Stevie valued secrets. She valued everybody’s privacy and their right to a personal relationship with someone; she valued everybody’s trust whether or not they might feel it was misplaced after. She took pride in earning someone’s trust. So Frank might feel panic or regret because he just told this firecracker of a librarian personal, confidential information, but Stevie was determined to prove that there was no need for regret.

 

            Not only did she want him to feel some sort of relief, a new form of catharsis in just _speaking_ about something, but she wanted him to come back. A part of her wanted to be his. Maybe not romantically, although that would be nice ( _because he’s so strong, and handsome, and so caring underneath it all_ ). She wanted to be his person to trust. She wanted to be the solace he found among all the secrets, among the isolation and constant worry of being found or captured or killed.

 

            Frank wasn’t upset as far as the eye could see. He wouldn’t dare let something like that show. To him, that was a weakness, and showing weakness so blatantly would create the perfect little opening for Stevie to wiggle her way into his heart. Frank’s heart was shut down permanently: no open doors for anyone and no exceptions. His heart’s sole purpose now was its own biological function, and that’s it.

 

            “I’m still not going to tell anybody,” Stevie relaxed back in her seat. “Do you feel… okay? With what you told me?”

 

            Frank paused. It wasn’t a face-value question. Stevie’s questions were never just simple or superficial. They truly desired great introspection. She wanted the truth no matter how uncomfortable it may be to tell or hear. “I don’t let people get close,” He finally spoke.

 

            “Well duh, I knew that the moment I saw you.” Stevie couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure everybody knows that. But that’s what you want.” Frank was taken aback. Sure, he wanted his plan to keep everybody at a great distance obvious, but nobody had ever called him _out_ on it. They just accepted it and ignored him just as he wanted. “So I know I probably annoy you, since I don’t scare off easy.”

 

            “Yeah, you’re like a bug.”

 

            “That means I… bug you?” Stevie laughed at her own pun. She was in pieces over it, bending over in her seat and slapping her knee. He would never admit it, but he liked her sunshiny-ness. Even though he wanted everybody to keep away, her positivity was endearing and so was her persistence. Nobody wanted to make the effort to break through his walls but for some reason, Stevie did.

 

            “Yeah, you _bug_ me. Laugh it up.” Frank retrieved the mug and took a drink to hide his smirk.

 

            “I think I will. I’ll do just that.” She finished her laugh with a light chuckle and sighed. “You don’t laugh much. Or smile much. But it makes sense. It goes with your edgy undercover persona.” Suddenly, curiosity struck Stevie and her mind veered off topic, as it frequently did. “When was the last time you went on a date? Like, did you date after what happened, or were you too caught up in revenge?”

 

            He had already thought about this on the way here. Does this question mean she considers this a date? _She’s probably been on tons of dates; no way she considers this one._ “Ah… it’s been a while. Not since Maria.” He picked at the snagged thread sticking from the hem of his pants.

 

            “Let’s go out, together.” This time, Frank was the one to almost drop the mug. He choked on nothing, thin air, and was sent into a coughing fit. He recovered quickly and cleared his throat.

 

            “ _Why?”_ It was the only thing he could manage to say.

 

            “I mean, it’ll get you out of the house. Things like that are good for stress, and anxiety.” _Okay, not a date. Be more specific next time, woman._ “I like your company, you’re not so vain. I’d like to get to know you outside of the whole military thing. You’re a really good person, even if you don’t think so yourself.” Stevie stood and picked both of their now-empty mugs up off her desk and set them on the antique hutch in the corner. She had said the last phrase so casually that she clearly didn’t know the effect it really had on Frank.

 

            It angered and pleased him all at the same time. He was offended, thinking maybe she’s questioning his authority, his strength, insinuating that he’s not all he’s chalked up to be. But he was flattered in a way because she saw something in him that other people didn’t bother to see; no matter how untrue he felt it was.

 

            Stevie turned and leaned on the hutch. “So it’s a date, right? You didn’t exactly say no, or yes.” She cocked her head. Frank noticed how she didn’t look quite human, more puppy-like, as she examined him.

 

            “Date?” He raised his eyebrows, silently asking for some sort of elaboration.

 

            “A get-together, a plan. Is it a _plan?_ I’m not trying to woo you just yet. _”_ Stevie giggled and straightened her neck. _I’d hate to see what happens when she actually tries. I might just fall in love. Then I gotta fall off the face of the earth again._  “What do you say?”

 

            Frank weighed his options. This woman obviously wasn’t trying to sabotage him. “Fine, nowhere too public.”

 

            “Meet me here day after tomorrow at lunchtime. So Wednesday.” She seemed so pleased with herself. He was a tough cookie and she broke through him. She had weakened him. He hated and loved her for it. There was obviously something special about her, to be able to break through Frank Castle, but he already knew that way before he even spoke a word to her.

           


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank follows through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i post future-update schedules on my tumblr! @libreyry

            Frank had followed through on his acceptance of Stevie’s “date” that she asked him on. He sat at the corner of the library in the old chairs he had the other day and waited as she checked out the long line of customers. _Lunch on a Wednesday. Prime book time, I guess._

Stevie wasn’t in love by any means. Maybe she had a crush, or maybe she was just so curious about him. Whatever it was, it made the sight of him in her library pull at her heartstrings and awaken the butterflies in her stomach. She stole glances at him every chance she could. Part of her was afraid that the next time she looked he would be gone. What she didn’t know was that Frank was now committed to her. Sort of. He wasn’t in love by any means. Not yet, at least. But, he was committed to the idea of her. He liked her presence and wanted to keep her around. Stevie had made it further than anyone had in months. She secured her tiny spot in his thawing heart. He didn’t _want_ to run from her at this point.

 

            Finally, the last person was being checked out. Stevie and Frank both found themselves a little antsy. The 20 minutes they had both waited felt like forever, and now it was time to reap the reward for their patience: each other’s company. As she ushered the last customer out of the store, Stevie broke out in a smile that she couldn’t take off as she sent them on their way. She flipped the “gone for lunch” sign around, shut the door, and heading back to where Frank was.

 

            “Look who decided to show up.” She half-kneeled on the chair next to him and sat on top of her foot.

 

            “Whaddya mean? I’m not late,” Frank defended himself.

 

            “No, you were early. Just didn’t expect you to come. Kinda thought you would’ve scared yourself off.” Stevie still donned the same smile she’d had for minutes now.

 

            “I mean, I could leave if you want.” Frank teased, standing up out of his seat. Playing along, Stevie grasped her hands together as if she were about to confess her devotion to Mary and put on her puppy eyes.

 

            “Don’t go, please? Stayyyyy,” she drew out the last syllable as long as she could. “You know you want toooo.” She leaned back and laughed at herself again, then stood.

 

            “What if I don’t?”

 

            “Then you’ll miss a really good time, I guess.” She poked at his side, hoping he was ticklish but knowing he probably wasn’t. _He’s a marine. No way he’s ticklish._ Just as she thought, he didn’t move an inch. She noted she’d broken the personal space boundary successfully with no pushback.

 

            “Yeah, I guess. When’s a good time start?” He continued smirking down at Stevie. This was the longest she’d seen him with any sort of smile on his face. It made her happy to see him happy when he usually looked utterly miserable.

 

            “Riiiight…” She paused to look down at her watch. “Now. Let’s go, tough man.” Frank maintained a good distance behind her through the library, letting her short legs set the pace. Once they were out of the library and Stevie had locked the door, he closed the distance between them. He followed closely behind her, so close that she bumped his stomach with her elbow when she was putting her keys in her pocket.

 

            “Where are you gonna hold me hostage? Gotta have a good secondary location.” Stevie laughed and looked over her shoulder, teeth white as ever.

 

            “A café. No cops, no bad guys, just grandmas.” She giggled and Frank felt his heart grow a tiny bit. He had no idea why he even agreed to this “date” but he wasn’t upset that he had. She was refreshing. His communication, the little he had, usually lay in crime affiliations. But Stevie could talk someone’s ear off about anything and shied from bringing the actual murder up in conversation. She would tiptoe just around the edge of death, enough for the pang in Frank’s heart to be dismissed rather easily. This brought guilt. Pleasure brought guilt for him. He felt undeserving; anybody but him, he thought.

 

            They walked a few blocks through alleyways and other shortcuts. Stevie was looking out for him. He’s sure that she wouldn’t normally take this way by herself. But she took it for _him._ He didn’t want to be noticed and she respected that more than anything, mainly because she knew what it felt like on some level.

 

            The café was finally in sight. Stevie pointed it out to him. They walked down a few steps to the door; it seemed to be somewhat the basement of another building, maybe apartments. The smell inside was delicious. It was very much vanilla, for sure. Stevie picked a table for two in the back corner and sat with her back to the door so Frank could face it. Right after the two sat down, an older woman came to take their order.

 

            She had a wise smile and kind eyes. “What can I get you, Stevie and friend?” The woman’s voice was accented, not intensely, just a shimmer of something after years of assimilating. Stevie ordered a coffee with all the frills and Frank just ordered his black.

 

            As the woman walked away, Stevie spoke up. “So, is there anything you want to know about me? You seem on edge.” He did, in fact, seem on edge. It was like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch. Frank thought if there was something he was dying to know. This was his chance if so.

 

            “I dunno. Why do you like me so much?” Frank’s hands were together on the small tabletop and his back hunched, legs spread underneath.

 

            “Who said I liked you?” She managed to keep a straight face for about two seconds before she bent over in laughter again. Today, she wore a lower cut top, a regular t-shirt. Her scar was pretty much on full display except for what was barely covered on her neck by her hair. Frank took it in: the ragged edges and pink, irritated hue. It was ghastly, but he no part of him thought it was ugly. Stevie made it charming. It was beautiful because it was apart of her. It was completely unique and completely _her,_ nothing about her could even comprehend the term “ugly.”

 

            “Kidding. I like you. You’re cool. I like the whole nonchalant, bad-boy thing.” _Nonchalant? What am I? 17, smoking under the bleachers?_ “Also kidding. Kinda. I like people who listen. I love to listen, but I love to talk. I know you know this, obviously. I like to be heard, even if it seems kinda one-sided. I don’t know. You sort of pull me in. In the nicest way, it’s like a train-wreck. You don’t want to look, but you can’t help it. The curiosity I have really likes you.” Stevie pulled her legs up into the tiny chair. She made herself big in front of so many people, sitting up in her chair and looking over the counter. But around Frank, she made herself smaller. If it was good or bad, he couldn’t tell just yet.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo both skirt around undeniable emotions.

            The coffee came out not too long after Stevie’s sort-of compliment. She tried her best to convey her true feelings about him and answer his question as best as she could without sounding like she was obsessed. Men didn’t like that. Nobody really liked a borderline psychopath. She had met plenty of men who were past that line and it had yet to end well.

 

            Frank’s coffee steamed while Stevie dipped her finger into the copious amount of whipped cream that towered high above her mug. He watched closely as she wrapped her lips around her finger and pulled it back out with a pop. It was a sexual scene, but he didn’t let himself see it that way, he simply marveled at everything she did. Just like everybody else did. Especially the teenage boy that stared at her from over the pastry case. Frank gave him some side eye and the boy quickly lost any interest he had previously found in Stevie.

 

            Stevie smirked across the table. “Serious competition, huh?” She picked up the extravagant coffee with both hands and took a small sip.

 

            “Competition. For?”

 

            “The hand of yours truly.” She snickered and cocked her head at Frank, waiting for his rebuttal. _Like a damn puppy._

            “Say I wanted it, I don’t think he’s got much of a chance.” He leaned on his elbow that was placed on the tabletop and wrapped his hand around the coffee cup that had just stopped steaming.

 

            “Maybe I’m a cougar. There’s your disadvantage now.”

 

            “Highly doubt that.” He rolled his eyes and took a long drink of the coffee.

 

            “S’it good?” Her eyes were wide as she questioned him.

 

            “Pretty good. Worth the hike you put me through to get here.”

 

            Now Stevie rolled her eyes. “Oh c’mon, you’re fit, you’re ex-military. Boot camp was way worse I’m sure.” She stopped abruptly and looked far-off for just a split second. He watched the gears turn in her mind as the topic changed quickly. “What’s your type?”

 

            “Seems more and more like this is a date, huh? You like me more than you’re lettin’ on?” Frank joked.

 

            “Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey. Tell me! What’s your type? Maybe I can get you a nice quiet lady friend.” Stevie took the opportunity to put the slightest sarcasm on her last statement.

 

            “I dunno. Maria was my type,” He paused and took a drink, swallowing back the emotion that threatened to show. “I like short, I guess. Brown hair.”

 

            “Well, now you’re just describing me.” She made a show of flipping her hair and batting her eyelashes. He knew she was joking, messing around with him, but he felt as if that might’ve been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The sunlight shone through the window and right into her eyes, highlighting the flecks of gold in them as well as her hair. Her skin seemed lit from within. He drank in that moment because he might have to run. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

 

            “Yeah, I guess so.” He trailed off and looked past her out the café door. Stevie moved her body slightly so she was once again in his line of sight.

 

            The two sat making short, back-and-forth conversation and jokes. Stevie finished most of her drink, and Frank nearly drank the bottom out of his mug. They both stood at the same time and he waited as she fished six dollars out of her pocket to set on the table. The old woman wished them farewell in her language when the bell to the door tinkered behind them.

 

            “Back to the library we go,” Stevie said, maybe to no one in particular, or herself, or Frank, or both of them.

 

            “Why are you a librarian? I thought librarians were _quiet.”_ Stevie laughed at his question.

 

            “It’s not all reading books and being cute and shy. You’ve gotta deal with people a good bit. Phone calls, people in person like customers and stuff. It’s more than what meets the eye.” _Just like you,_ Frank thought. She was a pleasure to look at and fantasize about, what she was truly like, but it was an even greater pleasure to get to know her and all her quirks and stories.

 

            The sweet smell from the coffee shop had stuck to Stevie and as they winded through alleyways, Frank was cursed to smell the vanilla and cardamom that was wafting from her hair as he walked behind her. He stayed just as close as the walk to the café, if not closer this time. He felt an innate need to protect her.

 

            As they rounded the corner to the library, he saw the line of about ten people that stood by the door. His guard went back up but it seemed that Stevie’s went down even lower, nearly gone into the atmosphere. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the door. Frank melted into her small, innocent touch. His guard went down the tiniest bit, just for her. He loomed over her as she unlocked it and she made sure to grab his hand, again, so he would be right behind her as she walked in and invited the customers in.

 

            Frank grew nervous as he became more aware of the situation. These people were here for Stevie. Well, books, but also her. Their attention was completely on her, their eyes watching her every move, so he was sure that there had to be some eyes on him, too. He put his hand on the small of her back and rushed her to the counter to say bid her goodbye. Stevie jumped the slightest bit as she felt the large expanse of his hand cover her lower back. Her heart fluttered, pounded, skipped so many beats she thought she might have to go to the hospital. Once she reached the desk she turned back to him, disappointed at the loss of contact.

 

            “I gotta go, see you later.” She was shocked at his promise. Maybe it wasn’t a promise but just a simple nicety. He seemed rushed and he was probably under some sort of stress that forced his polite hand. Stevie thought of any excuse because it didn’t seem like that would be _his_ farewell statement, in the short time that she got to know him.

 

            “You want to know why I like you, Frank?” His attention was peaked hearing her sweet voice say his name. He raised an eyebrow, silently asking _why?_ “You came back. I told you, you’re a good person. I can see the things about you that you don’t want to admit are there.” He shook his head and smirked to play it off like it was some sort of joke. He tilted his head down and turned, walking away from Stevie and out the door, even though it felt like he was on a leash and someone was pulling him back. He proceeded down the street through a different series of alleyways, his mind still hanging onto her words, her sweet succor.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank examines Stevie's morning rituals.

            Stevie relished in the security of the pile of blankets that were mussed upon her bed. She had walked in the apartment door not moments ago and her first mission had been to let herself fall onto the bed. Today had been overwhelming in the best way. So many good things had happened and if she thought about everything too much she told herself she might combust.

 

            The first thing that came to her mind was Frank’s “see you later.” It was a promise. Maybe an empty one, but she was too caught up in the chance that it was a _real_ promise that would actually be fulfilled. _That means he_ wants to _see me if he said it. He wouldn’t just say that, right?_

 

            She let her thoughts wander, but not for too long because then that would be catastrophic. She’d dig herself into a hole and convince herself of the most awful things. So, she busied herself. She went around the apartment picking things up and putting things back as she went. When she noticed that her curtains were still partially open after letting the sunlight warm the apartment this morning, she closed them all evenly.

 

            Her heart rate picked up when she began to think about Frank again. She couldn’t help herself. It was as a teenager in… well, she wouldn’t say that word. It’s not love. But she so completely _loves_ his company. _What’s wrong with you, Stevie? It’s not that big of a deal, just friends, just platonic companions. Ew. Since when did you start saying platonic and companions in the same sentence, as a phrase._

Stevie let herself daydream more of the moments that the two of them shared throughout their “date.” Soon enough, the apartment was spotless. Blankets folded, pillows fluffed, mugs washed and put back in the cupboard. As a reward, she fixed a cup of tea, no frills, and sat down on the couch with her phone. She scrolled through the millions of playlists she’d made and finally selected one, letting it play lightly over the speaker on the coffee table. It was difficult for her to pick from the stack of books on the end table, but she decided on one and finished her tea while she read. Just after, she fell asleep on the couch, the book open face down on her lap.

 

            When she woke up the sun had just barely risen. The sky was still mostly a dark purple fading into a small sliver of red and pink and orange. This was Stevie’s favorite time. She loved how quiet it was both outside and inside. Early morning, but not too early, was one of the most peaceful times for her. There was a certain feeling that could be evoked only in such an early hour. It was less hectic and gave her plenty of time to read, bathe, eat, do anything she could possibly imagine. Her body had grown so used to her alarms that she didn’t think she would be able to sleep in even if she tried.

 

            Stevie decided that this morning was a pancake morning. She pulled all of the curtains apart so she could watch the sunrise from the stovetop. The click of the gas burner was satisfying and her stomach grumbled at the same second like it was telling her to hurry up. She knew she was starving, but what she didn’t know was that she had an audience. Atop the building across the street was Frank.

 

            He told himself that this was creepy. This was unlike anything he had ever done. He never watched someone so closely that he wasn't going to kill. He’d woken from a short slumber to Maria gently greeting him. He somehow forced himself awake so he wouldn’t have to bear witness to her murder for the thousandth time in his sleep. What he needed was peace; he needed solace. Getting out of the apartment was a rarity but it was usually only in dire situations where he felt like he might go crazy if he didn’t.

 

            Roofs were good for this. Being above everything else was calming, it can give you a sense of control that you otherwise might not have. What is there to control from so high up? Who knows, but the feeling was most important whether or not it’s true. Frank felt his heart drop all seven stories to the bottom of the building when Stevie disappeared from his sight. It took an express elevator all the way back up when she’d come back in a short silk robe and out of the clothes she’d slept in.

 

            He wasn’t spying. Or stalking. It was more like bird watching or how some people actually “people watch” in parks. He was people watching, just one specific person. Stevie’s movements were languorous. They were as if she hadn’t a single care in the world. With slow purpose, she grabbed a pan from under the stovetop and other ingredients from the pantry. Watching her perform such a mundane task was like watching an opera: something that had been rehearsed so religiously until every movement was completely fluid.

 

            As the sun continued to rise her body was silhouetted at every angle. In the six AM sunlight, Stevie stood with a high stack of pancakes and ate them as she danced. Frank figured she had to be rich when he first spoke to her. _Nobody’s this happy all the time without money,_ he had told himself. But she wasn’t rich financially. She let the small moments enrich her. He watched as she twirled and tapped throughout the apartment until she finished her food. Then, she sat on the cushion in one of the vast bay windows with a book that had fallen on the floor.

 

            Frank found himself losing focus. His vision moved from her apartment to the birds nestled in the trees outside of it, to the growing traffic, the dogs and owners on their morning walk. He always checked back in on her, though. She kept her steady pace flipping through the pages. _Is she really gonna read that whole thing right now?_

Right as he asked, Stevie closed the book. She sat it on the cushion and stretched her arms all the way behind her head. _Who keeps their curtains wide open for everyone to see?_ It seemed judgmental, but deep down Frank wanted to be the only one to see this. Her morning routine was sacred and should only be enjoyed by a close few, or only one. He wanted to be that one. Kicking himself for feeling such a way, he extinguished the tiny flame of love that had sparked and made his way to the concrete earth. Before he felt any other feelings.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie settles on a title for her feelings and Frank blossoms, just a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for my hiatus, it was a crazy semester! I'm so glad to be back ♡

            A rusty orange silk blouse, sturdy denim jeans, and a pair of olive green mules. Each piece was like night and day: heaven and hell, black and white. Stevie managed to mesh them perfectly and it was mostly because of her attitude. Confidence is convincing when it comes to fashion, but Stevie was even more convincing. There wasn’t a thing about Stevie that could be picked apart or disliked. Everything about her was seemingly perfect in the most imperfect, haphazard way.

 

            While she locked her front door she looked like a Leonid Afremov piece against the cream-colored brick. Her heels clicked against the pavement as she began her walk to the library. _Maybe not my smartest decision, to walk to work the one day I wear heels._ The walk wasn’t too treacherous, only 15 minutes, 20 if she paced herself a little too slowly. In her mind, she ran over the list of things she needed with her just in case she forgot something. Too many times she remembered her phone or wallet wasn’t with her when she was a block away from the library.

 

            _Curtains are closed, door’s locked… phone, wallet, keys obviously._ Deciding if something had been left it wasn’t as important, she put a little speed in her step and committed to making it a ten-minute walk this morning. Her thoughts began to roam now that all of the important things had been sorted out and she let them. Books to be ordered, to be read, other things at the library, _Frank. Frank, Frank, Frank._ Every thought turned into Frank now. _Ugh. I need to do something about this._

 

            Stevie had never been too keen on guys. She’d just never met one that she fell head over heels for. Never in her life had she felt the classic high school dumb love over someone until now. Sure she’d been in plenty of relationships, but they were more for the guys and never really her. She provided stability and consistency but never got it in return. It was a wonder how she wasn’t just like the guys she’d been with, leaching off of someone for security.

Frank was different. There was some sort of chemistry. Whether it was platonic or romantic she couldn’t quite tell but settled on the former solely out of doubt. She appreciated the chemistry more than anything. It was unlike any feelings that she had felt with guys before. _This_ , with Frank, felt like what she should have felt in high school. Because of all her previous experiences, she worried that people were simply incapable of feeling romantic attraction to her. Stevie worried she was just like an element of homeostasis, no purpose but keeping the body alive.

 

            Her thoughts continued to swirl around her mind, Frank always pulled into the current. Soon enough she was outside the library door. Looking down to her watch, she noted her new record time. _Nine minutes. Time sure flies when you’re in… like. When you like someone, Stevie. Time flies when you like someone._ She put all her focus on finding the library key and unlocking it quickly.

 

            Stevie took the short amount of time before the influx of customers to shelve books that had been checked back in. Soon enough, the bell above the door began to ring incessantly and she rushed back toward her desk. She looked in waiting for the customers to make their way across the library floor, but it never came and the ringing hadn’t stopped. Poking her head out from the shelf she was behind, she saw Frank standing at the door. He had the doorknob in his right hand opening and closing the door just past the little golden bell. Stevie tried to muster up a serious, stern look with her hands on her hips but she just couldn’t. She immediately broke out into laughter, bent at the waist with her hands on her knees.

 

            As she regained her composure, the ringing stopped. When she looked back up to Frank the most smile-like smirk she’d seen from him yet. He slowly pushed the door to make the last little jingle more dramatic. For some reason, this sent Stevie into a fit once again. The metal ridges in the lock clicked back into place and Frank made his way to Stevie. Surprisingly, the smirk had yet to fade from his face.

 

            Stevie wiped the tears from her cheeks on her hands and patted them off on her jeans, careful not to dampen the silk of her blouse. “Somebody’s in a good mood today,” she chuckled. She made her way back to her desk and Frank followed.

 

            “Good mood? What’s that?” Stevie scoffed at him. Her face looked irritated but he knew she was messing around with him. He took in her unusually dressy outfit. She looked gorgeous and done-up both times he’d met with her but it was with no intention on her part. “Got a hot date tonight?” He leaned up against the counter.

 

            “Hot date? What’s that?” Her laugh was quieter, disappointed, maybe. “I just thought I’d put some effort in for once in a while. But if you wanna take me out on one date I’d be more than happy to oblige.” She winked at him and every part of him wished that she wasn’t joking. But every part of her knew she _wasn’t_ joking, just hoped that he wouldn’t take offense.

 

            “I know a nice, dark Italian place. Show you what a hot date _actually_ is.” Stevie’s face lit up immediately at his words. _There’s no way he’s serious. Absolutely no fucking way. He’s joking. He’s joking! Of course, he’s just messing with me._ Even with a feverish look on her face, Frank saw the glow from her skin and fell even more. She was nervous, embarrassed by his flirtation and not in a bad way. He hoped.

 

            “You could take me to the grocery store and it’d still far surpass any other date I’ve been on.” Frank was flattered. If he weren’t such a manly-man he would have been blushing.

 

            “So do I need to break out my good hoodie for tonight?” She giggled at him, noticing he had angled himself away from the door and let his hood down. She took in every detail about him with his face unobstructed. Something inside her happened she felt a surge of happiness shoot through her.

 

            “I guess so. Should I wear one? So we match?” Frank’s lip turned.

 

            “If that’ll make the experience more _enjoyable_ , go for it.” He was in no position to tell her what to do or wear. She could show up in sweatpants, a men’s XXL sweater, and socks and sandals for all he cared. She’d still be the brightest, most gorgeous thing in the room. Her beauty would inspire the most prestigious designers.

 

            Stevie nodded and smiled wide enough to see a sliver of the pearly white behind her lips. A wall had been broken. It was like a crack in a glass ceiling, just small enough to let a small beam of light through. Still, the difference with just that one tiny bit of light was monumental. She liked that Frank was opening up and branching out even if it was just to her. _Especially_ if it was just her.

 

            “Do you want to meet back here later? Or at the restaurant? I can’t go on a hot date if I don’t actually know where to go.” Her right eyebrow lifted, tilting her glasses upward slightly.

 

            “When are you closin’ up shop?”

 

            “Our hours are on the front door, sir,” She joked and looked down at her watch. “Kidding, I’m gonna shut it down at seven.”

 

            “Sorry to inconvenience you, sweetheart. I’ll meet you here at seven, so you’re not walkin’ around bad guys to get to me.” Every word, every interaction between them was both a joke and serious sentiment. Frank played into her jokes, just as she did with his, but he preferred meeting her here at the library. He wanted to know she was safe walking the whole way to the restaurant.

 

            “What if you’re the real bad guy I need to worry about, huh?”

 

            “You got me there.” Frank put his hands up in the air then moved them to pull his hood back up. “I’ll see you at seven.” She watched his every move as he turned, his head low, and walked out of the library. Seconds after he left, it was like a switch had flipped, and a college group came in to study. Maybe the switch was just luck so Stevie could have alone time with her trivial crush. That’s what it was. A very trivial crush. Referring to it as trivial made Stevie feel more comfortable in the little flutters in her stomach and fast beating of her heart, that eventually they would all just go away.


	9. Chapter 9

            Stevie’s day dragged by slower than any other day she had worked in her life. Just like thoughts the few days before, everything reverted back to Frank. While ordering books, she’d lost herself in a quick daze. When one of her regular, every-other-day customers had called her sweetheart all that rang through her mind was Frank’s gravelly voice calling her the same name just hours earlier. She debated taking a lunch break just to change and mentally looked through her closet to find an outfit. She decided to take that opportunity.

 

            Excitement coursed through her veins and she speed-walked to her apartment. This walk had just barely scraped past ten minutes and only because of an especially long stoplight with an even longer flow of traffic that she just couldn’t get around. The front door couldn’t open any faster and she practically flung it open, stopping it with her hand just before it knocked a hole in the drywall. _For God’s sake, make time to get a doorstop before you have to pay damages on top of next month’s rent. Note to self: doorstop._

            The bag on her shoulder swung around as she scrambled to her room. She knew exactly what she wanted to change into for tonight; it was just a matter of actually finding it. First, she glimpsed over her barren walk-in closet. Books were more plentiful than clothes in what she considered a room within a room and that’s how she liked it. She was grateful that one of the cheaper options still had a decent sized closet for storage. _No luck._ After a second look through the closet, she pulled a bin that she had dedicated to swimwear down from a shelf just to make sure. _Still no luck._

 

            She returned the bin to its spot and leaned against the doorframe, peering out into her room. _Oh my god, you idiot._ She ran over to the clothes rack and yanked the red slip dress off the hanger. Immediately after she checked to make sure she hadn’t ripped the strap in her rush. _Thank you,_ she praised silently once she saw both straps were intact. Looking down at her feet, she knew olive mules wouldn’t pair well with a red dress. _Aaand back to the closet._

She grabbed the only pair of black heels she owned and ran to the pantry, stuffing the dress, shoes, and a granola bar into her bag. The kitchen was still slightly messy from this morning’s wholesome breakfast escapade so she scooped a handful of crumbs off the counter into the trashcan. Not much, but the rest would get done eventually.

 

            Snatching a coat off the hook by the door, Stevie was gone. She took her time, her tote bag being slightly heavier than before. Her steps were slow and she swayed as she pulled the granola bar from her bag, and swayed still as she devoted all of her focus on eating it. _How am I hungry already? I still have…_ She looked down to check her phone. _Two hours. Maybe not_ that _bad._

Stevie used all thirty minutes of her lunch to walk back to the library. Even though she could have just kept the door locked until she was done, she wanted to roam about and appreciate the trip she made every day more so than usual. She took a few pictures of birds and the sun that flared off the many glass windows lining the walk, and waited to see a recycling bin for the plastic wrap from her “lunch.”

 

            Glances were stolen from the canvas tote for the rest of the day. It sat inconspicuously under the desk, slumped over and seemingly harmless. But, Stevie knew what was in the bag, and she couldn’t wait to put it on. It’d been forever since she’d had an actual date with someone who was (probably) interested in her. Sure, she’d gone to a distant cousin’s wedding with a male friend, but that was just for fun and tradition. Lines were drawn deep in the sand between them as they waltzed and square-danced, laughing the whole time.

 

            A timer was set on her phone. Right as it went off, the last customer walked out the door and she rushed after them to close and lock it behind them. Stevie practically ran with the bag under the stairs and through the hall to her office. She locked the door behind her hastily and stripped down in front of the mirror she had recently put in her office. Shoving her day clothes in the bag, she pulled the heels and satiny dress out. She questioned her choice briefly, wondering if a dress that required one to be braless was to… risqué for one of the first few dates. _If he really thinks it’s a date. God, I really hope he does._

The neck was just slightly a cowl and hugged her waist but hung from her hips and chest. It wasn’t too tight, but it definitely wasn’t anything like a nun’s habit either. She sat back in the chair Frank had sat in the other day and buckled her shoes up. He should be there any second now.

           

            Sure enough, he was there. Stevie heard the faint knock from the front entrance to the library and rushed to grab her wallet and phone, then to greet him. There he was, conspicuously peering through the glass panes in the wooden door, dressed in different shades of black clothing. He looked slightly more dressed up than usual but still had a hat on to cover his face. Stevie smiled at his effort to look good for their outing but also his attempt to still stay incognito.

 

            “Well look at you, I really expected you to be in a hoodie.” Stevie raked her eyes up and down his frame.

 

            “Just a hat this time…” Frank trailed off as he took in her outfit. Just like everybody else, he found her otherworldly: incredibly gorgeous, _perfect._ But tonight was the icing on the cake. He didn’t think that she could somehow look any better than she already did. It was different, though. It was with purpose. She was usually so casual and confident. Any doubts she faced about her outfit choice were completely overshadowed by the way that she really looked.

 

            “Is this okay? I hope it’s not too dressy.” She adjusted the strap over her shoulder, her eyebrows together questioningly.

 

            “No, it’s… good. Really good… for the restaurant. C’mon.” Nobody ever really left Frank speechless, until now. She had just caught him off guard. Something flickered in her eyes and her confidence began to shine through as she strutted out the door, locking it behind her, and sliding the key into the pocket in her wallet.

 

            They chatted along the way, pauses of silence thrown in here and there as she admired the streetlights and occasional star in the sky. Frank wouldn’t admit it to himself, much less to anyone aloud, but he was nervous. This was his… first, first date in a long time. He didn’t think he’d have another one after what happened to Maria. He told himself he didn’t need that anymore. But apparently, Stevie is changing those plans.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation Hot-Date has begun.

            The restaurant was slightly busy and Frank almost turned out of the door the minute they walked into the restaurant, but Stevie’s excitement pulled him along with her, straight to the hostess’s stand. She peered up to meet Frank’s eyes as he stood behind her shoulder. There was something else in her eyes, something mischievous. _Oh god,_ he thought.

 

            “Two for Castiglione, please.” She giggled and he couldn’t help but let a chuckle rumble in his chest at her use of his alias. The hostess’ eyes raised at the name and she quickly grabbed two menus from the stand and rushed to a table in a dimly lit section of the restaurant.

 

            When the hostess walked away, Stevie raised her eyebrows. “Mafia?” She whispered to him as if everybody around them wasn’t engaging in rather loud conversation.

 

            “No, just a family.” He sipped from a small, stemmed glass holding ice water.

 

            “Huh, so you don’t only have criminal connections, do you?” She swirled the glass and watched the ice cubes swim around the edges.

 

            “I try not to have _any_ connections.” Frank chuckled. It wasn’t much of a laugh as it was an acknowledgement of his own comment, of how sad it might be.

 

            “Well, I know I made that hard for you.” She giggled and sipped from her own glass. She was right; she did make it hard. She was breaking through his many walls with ease, no matter how hard he fought to keep her at a distance. Stevie wasn’t to be kept at a distance. She was meant to be close: to be loved and cherished, to be seen and let see.

           

            “I’ll let you pick for me, that okay? I’ve never been here, I’m sure you know the menu better than I do.” Frank was a big guy. Not fat by any means, but she knew he was probably a little picky when he was afforded the chance. Regardless, she still scanned through the menu and looked at the wine selection.

 

            A waiter came by, an older man whose smile lines showed many years of laughter. “Ready to order?” Frank nodded at him and told him to double his normal order, and a bottle of some cheap American beer. Stevie leaned over and pointed at his menu to the name of a wine, and he rattled that off to the waiter as well.

 

            Their drinks were brought out just seconds after the order had been placed and Stevie finished her wine as their meal was laid in front of them. “More wine?” The waiter looked expectedly at the pair.

 

            “Want more?” Frank looked at her empty wine glass. “Anything you want, tonight’s your hot date.” He smirked and she laughed rather loudly, covering her mouth with her hand.

 

            “Hot date… yes, I’ll take another glass. Thank you.” Even her manners made Frank’s heart skip a beat. How could someone be so polite and caring to everyone? “Do you like honesty?”

 

            Frank’s breath caught in his throat. She asked so innocently, but for some reason, he could only think that something bad was going to happen. He paused to regain his composure then shook his head yes.

 

            “This is the best date I’ve been on. Ever. Hottest one, too.” The waiter sat Stevie’s glass on the table beside her hand and she immediately picked it up to take a labored drink from it. She donned a small smile, but Frank saw that there was something sad in her eyes. He decided he’d ask something, that he’d engage in conversation this time and be the one to get _her_ to open up.

 

             “What’s wrong with the other dates?” It was a little nerve-wracking for him to engage in conversation like this, but he knew if he could break this wall with anybody, it would be Stevie. Still, he barely made eye contact as he asked his question and quickly busied himself with his meal.

 

            “Okay, well, I haven’t been on one in a little while. Just because they feel dangerous at this point, like, if they’re all gonna turn out to be shit-shows, why should I take the chance? For a while I just thought it was me, you know? That I wasn’t good enough to really commit to. But it’s been them. I’ve just been a cheap commodity. I was convenient for them. I was only there to cushion their ego and their emotions and fix their mommy-issues.

 

            “And toward the end of every relationship, I’d start distancing myself because I _saw_ all these problems but I didn’t want to cut it off right then, for whatever reason. Maybe I thought it was easier to back away slowly instead of running away that second. But whoever I was with would always notice, so they’d start getting abusive to make me stick around. It’d make me scared to leave and it’d really…bruise my self-esteem, so I thought I wouldn’t be able to get with anyone else and that they were the only one who could love me. My friend got me out of it, though. I don’t know why she stuck around when I kept putting myself in those situations.”

 

            Stevie laughed, breathy and sad. She picked up her fork and dug into what lay on her plate, and her expression changed into sheer bliss. “Oh my god, this is so _good._ ” Washing it down with a drink of wine made it all even better. Frank only smiled. _A woman who loves food is a woman to keep,_ he thought.

 

            “I can tell you it’s not you. And it’s not your fault. You’ve got a big heart. Makes you kinda blind sometimes. You’re too worried about other people and not puttin’ yourself first.” He looked up at her from under his hat and saw that his comment put her in a quick but deep state of thought.

 

            “Even before my parents were gone they told me that, all the time. Now I see why.” This time her laugh was more light-hearted as she reminisced on their talks, neither of them understanding how someone could be so compassionate.

 

            “They weren’t wrong. Sounds like you’re a real doormat.” Frank smirked and Stevie immediately burst into laughter.

 

            “Am not!” She lightly kicked his shin under the table, leaning back in her chair and covering her mouth as she laughed for a few more seconds. “I can stand my own ground, thank you very much. I can’t bench 200 but I always win in a fight of words.” She crossed her arms over her chest triumphantly.

 

            “God, I’m sure you do.” He raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes playfully, a true smile creeping onto his face.

 

            “Since when did this turn into dog-on-Stevie night?” She laughed again, not near the fit she had seconds ago, but still a full, harmonious laugh. He took in the blush on her cheeks as she wrapped her lips around the edge of the glass and noticed the blush that had started mid-way through her first glass of wine. It was cute. _Cute. When did I ever call someone “cute?”_

            “Next joke about me is another glass of wine.” She motioned her glass toward him.

 

            “You sure you should finish that one?” He wasn’t judgmental in his question, but a little prying. Joking of course.

 

            Her other hand reached to feel her face. “I’m red, aren’t I?” She smiled and the pink turned a little deeper on her cheeks.

 

            “As a cherry.”

 

            “ _That_ red?!” She looked embarrassed. He put his hand out over the table in a “stop” motion.

 

            “I’m kidding. Nothing that doesn’t look good on you anyway.” He laughed at her glare; surely she felt her own cheeks darkening even more.

 

            “You’re just getting me all worked up now.” The two laughed and Stevie took in the full smile on his face. She noted that he _did_ like a good time, to laugh and have fun. Even if it were playfully at her expense, she’d do anything to keep that smile on his face.

 

            One more glass of wine later, they both finished their plates. Three empty glasses and one empty bottle sat on the table behind them, watching like an audience as Frank laid cash out on the table and escorted Stevie out of the restaurant.

 

            “That was definitely nowhere close to a shit-show. Screw best date, this is the best night I’ve ever had.” She glanced up at Frank.

 

            “Well, I’m glad I can set a record.” He smiled down at her, watching her sway as she walked, brushing his arm every few steps. After walking a few blocks, she put her arm through his and leaned into him. His heart rate began rising steadily.

 

            “Thank you, Frank. Really, no jokes or anything, I’m…thrilled.” When he looked back down to her, she had the same puppy-look she’d had in the office the other day.

 

            “No jokes, I’m glad I could do that for you.” She rubbed her head slightly on his shoulder and he took a deep breath at the contact. He truly missed having someone to bond with, to go out with. He missed wanting a moment to never end, he was tired of hoping time would magically change and pass faster than normal every day.

 

            She led Frank around corners with her body still leaned against his. As they neared the row of streetlights, she pulled away from him and turned to face him head-on. He knew it was her apartment, but he acted as if he’d never been there. She held her finger up to tell him to wait and pulled out a little piece of paper from her wallet.

 

            “I usually keep this in here for business stuff, but I’d definitely rather give it to you. If anything comes up, if you need a hideout or some company or anything like that you can just call me. Okay?” She stuck her hand out and he took the tiny paper from her, examining the ten numbers written across it.

 

            “Okay,” He suppressed his smile but any expression dropped as Stevie stepped forward and hugged him. Slowly, he wrapped his arms back around her. As she wormed her way back out of the hug, she leaned up and kissing him on the cheek, just far enough from his lips. His mouth hung open just slightly in shock.

 

            “Be careful, don’t get into too much trouble.” She smiled and waved as she turned to walk up the steps and unlock her door. She had Frank hooked. Well, she did from the start, but now it would probably be impossible for him to turn away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for future updates and more of my writing, look at libreyry.tumblr!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie works her magic on a wounded Frank who is forced to remain somewhat vulnerable: not the ideal situation, but it leads to a favorable outcome.

            Stevie woke suddenly to the click of her window opening and the thud of someone landing on the wood floor underneath it. She quickly rolled over and reached under her bed, fumbling around to finally grasp the bat she kept there. Her adrenaline quickly shot up and her hand shook as she held the bat. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She clicked the power button on her phone to see the time. _Three AM and four missed calls from… Maybe: Frank?_

This was her chance. She clicked on the notification to call him back and held the phone to her ear, waiting for it to start ringing. The footsteps outside her room were heavy and erratic. Maybe whoever it was thought she wasn’t home? Or they’re not a very good criminal, because they’re being loud as all get-out.

 

            “Come on,” Stevie whispered to herself, still standing on the side of her bed. Finally, as the ringing started, a jingle started to play in the other room. She pulled the phone down away from her ear. “Frank?”

 

            “Yeah, it’s me.” His voice sounded like he was miserable. It was as if he had a hangover and had just finished puking over some random person’s balcony: an exact situation Stevie was all too familiar with. She threw her phone and the bat down on the bed and ran to the bedroom door, fumbling once more to unlock it.

 

            There he was, leaning over her kitchen counter. In the nicest way possible, she thought he looked like he’d had a rough night. She could see in the low light that came through the curtains that he at least had a black eye, maybe a little bloody. “Oh my god!” Rushing over to him, she put her shoulder into his side and steered him to the couch.

 

            Even in pain, Frank refused to put any weight on her. It was sweet that she was trying, but he’d probably crush her if he leaned into her any more than he was. He was relieved when she helped him lay back on the couch. “There uh, there might be some blood, I don’t know.”

 

            “It’s fine, it’s fine, does this look expensive to you?” She chuckled lightly and kneeled in front of him. “So, wanna tell me what happened? And whose phone you stole?” She laughed again, but the small smile fell as she focused on his face in wait of his answer.

 

            “It’s a burner,” He winced as he shifted to take the weight off of his side, “No mob or anythin’, just some guys thought they could get me gone, you know?” Stevie nodded her head like she knew, even though she didn’t know. She had absolutely _no_ idea.

 

            “Well…” She squinted her eyes as she looked him over, at a complete loss, “Where do I start?” Frank shrugged his shoulders, thought about her question for another second, and pointed to his eye. It was more visible now that she was within closer range that the skin had split slightly. While the blood flow had slowed down, every facial expression or twitch of a nerve forced a little more to run out of it. Face, hands, and feet always seemed to bleed a lot. Nothing life-threatening, but it always seemed like it took forever to get the smallest cuts to dry up.

 

            “One second.” She quickly made her way to the closet that was beside the bathroom. Her movements were made quicker when the thought of his wounds being worse than he let on passed through her mind. Butterfly bandages; wound wash, gauze, an emergency suture kit her father always advised her to keep. _That’ll do._

Kneeling down in front of Frank again, she scattered the supplies out on the coffee table behind her. Still a little groggy, she paused to gather her bearings. Finally, she grabs the gauze, wound wash, and the package of butterfly bandages and sets them in his lap. She dabs the small cut and he winces ever so slightly. Unfortunately, it wasn’t saline, so it stung just a tad. Once the area is clean and bandaged, she heads to the kitchen and puts ice in a plastic sandwich bag, then wraps it in a kitchen towel.

 

            “Here,” She hands the makeshift icepack to him and kneels back down, “I’m sure you know the drill.” A small smile creeps up on her lips and disappears as she regains her focus. She reaches to the side table and grabs her glasses, just in case the sutures are needed.

 

            “Got me pretty good right here,” Frank lifts his shirt, “Nothing I can’t handle. Or haven’t before.” Stevie looks at his left flank and up to his chest. It’s bruised; already green on the edges but turns into a deeper purple the closer it gets to the center. No cut or opening, just really, _really_ bad bruising. She lightly presses her fingers against the bruise and he sinks back into the couch to avoid the pressure.

 

            “Sorry, I just have to check it out, but I’m pretty positive that ribs are bruised and at least one is broken,” Stevie ran her index finger over the discolored skin and Frank hoped, _prayed_ , that she would be too preoccupied to notice the goosebumps that rose from her touch. “Seventh is definitely broken.”

 

            He groaned as he shifted on the couch. She sat back on her knees and gave him a generous look over as he moved about. “I’m sure it’s just bruised,” His breath hitched as he twisted just slightly, irritating his _definitely_ broken rib, “You know what, I’ll be fine. Not a big deal.” Stevie raised her eyebrows and looked at him questioningly from behind her glasses. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. She knew it was a bigger deal than he’d let on, but she didn’t expect anything less from him.

 

            “Well,” Stevie leaned forward and moved his hand that held the icepack to his eye. “You’re way more than welcome to fly low here for a while.” She pushed off the floor and went back to her refrigerator. “No more icepacks but these bad boys work all the same.” Frank cut his eyes to look at her standing triumphantly in the kitchen holding a bag of frozen (organic) peas. _Of course she eats organic._ Frank made a mental note. Normally he would have scoffed at anyone else eating organic, but in a way it was endearing. It was just another little Stevie-thing.

 

            Frank mulled it over in his head. He could stay there and perhaps lay low while he recovers, or he could stay there and someone catch on and end up hurting Stevie. “I think I’m good, don’t need anybody hot on your trail, too.” He lifted his legs up and rested his feet on the coffee table, more than happy to take the remaining pressure from his body.

 

            “Oh, yeah, because I have so many people on my trail already,” Stevie wrapped the bag of peas in a tea towel and walked over to rest it along his most-injured side. “I’ve read a lot so I’m smarter than you think.” _How? I think you’re a fuckin’ genius._ Frank was always stunned by her intelligence. Despite the ditsy remarks she sometimes made, she could dig herself so deep into a conversation that he couldn’t help but fall in with her. Her eloquence was enchanting because it came so naturally. He lost himself in the flow of her words.

 

            She checked to make sure that there wasn’t even the slightest crack between the curtains, then made herself comfortable in one of the two mismatched velvet chairs across from Frank. Despite the pain, he was able to relax with a few deep breaths. As he disconnected from the pain, he became aware of just how regal the scene before him was.

 

            Stevie was as comfortable as anyone could be; she had leaned back in the chair, propped her chin on her hand, and slung one of her legs over the arm while the other was outstretched in front of her. The white camisole peaked out from under her silk robe that draped open across her chest but closed across her legs. Normally this was something that Frank would admittedly be a little… hot and bothered by. Instead, it gave him peace. Her comfort, her lack of worry, her calm moved throughout the room and surrounded him like a blanket. At this moment she was just a beautiful creature. She was a doe and he was a hunter too in awe to pull the trigger.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank gets caught red-handed and Stevie punishes him with domestic sweetness.

            Stevie woke again to the sound of a metal bowl clanging to the ground. Her eyes shot open and she jumped up out of the chair she had fallen asleep in to meet Frank’s equally surprised expression. The icepacks had been discarded on the couch, forgotten as Frank tried to make his escape. The bowl she left her keys in lay on the ground and he mentally cursed it. I woulda gotten away with it, if it weren’t for you.

 

            Her surprise melted and she cocked an eyebrow to emphasize her dissatisfaction. She looked him up and down once more and walked to the window to push the curtain aside. Then, she glanced at the clock hanging above the television. “So,” She half-heartedly brushed the curtain closed and made her way to the kitchen, “You mean to tell me that you wake me up at three in the morning, make me bandage you up, and as thanks, you wake me up again at six this time?”

 

            There was little sincerity in her voice as she smirked up at him. Frank watched her fumble around tiredly to make a pot of coffee. “Not to mention you throw around my expensive heirloom silver bowl that I had to pay eight dollars for at Target. Despicable, Frank Castle.” Stevie giggled and Frank chuckled along with her. It was still rather pitiful since he couldn’t put as much into it, broken rib and all.

 

            “Well, I was hopin’ I could get out of here without wakin’ you up so you couldn’t fight me on stayin’ over here.” Frank limped over to the kitchen and sat on the barstool. Being closer made talking less of a task, so he wouldn’t have to be as loud, and it also let him see her better as she moved around the kitchen.

 

              “Well,” She mocked, “We see how that turned out. Why can’t you just stay here, really? I’ve got curtains, not like you’ve got a car parked out front or anything. Besides, you don’t really get out that often if we’re being honest, so nobody will see you leave.”

 

             Frank hated that she was making a good point. It wasn’t the best point, but he truly wanted to stay with her. Maybe it was selfish, because what if someone did get into the apartment? What if someone caught on and went after Stevie? Frank cringed inwardly and shook those thoughts out of his head. He told himself that no matter how close someone got to Stevie or how far into the apartment they got, nobody would lay a hand on her.

 

            In response he simply huffed. He leaned back in the stool and watched Stevie flit around the kitchen, multitasking the food preparation as if her life depended on it. Every so often, she would hum or whistle for a few moments but eventually fall back into her focus on cooking.

 

            “I hope you’re not allergic to anything,” She ladled a scoop of batter into the pan that had been heating up on the stove, “But I figured a big strong man like you doesn’t have many weaknesses, at least not chocolate chips.” A smile broke across her face and she threw her head back with a short laugh.

 

            “Oh, please not chocolate chips. They’re my ultimate weakness.” Frank smirked as she laughed once more. Usually, he wasn’t one to joke around, but everybody who even passed him in the street could guess that. However, he was gaining more courage to spare a joke here and there at the expense of his secrecy just to see Stevie’s smile.

 

            Stevie continued in silence until she began plating the pancakes and laying the bacon out beside them. “How are you feeling?” Her voice was filled with sincere curiosity. She picked up a piece of bacon and took a bite, staring up at Frank patiently.

 

            “I-“ Frank’s voice faltered; he hadn’t actually stopped to consider how he felt as a whole. “I’m fine, I guess. Sore, you know?”

 

            “Trust me, I do.” Stevie giggled halfheartedly and trailed off. It was a joke but she really did know. The car accident had left her sore for weeks. Deep in his chest, Frank felt the slightest pang of sadness.

 

            “Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Frank swallowed. “I mean, I’ve had to rough it before so there’s not much I won’t eat, but I know fine dining, too.” Stevie’s eyes lit up at his hidden compliment.

 

            “After the wreck, after I woke up, I mean, I took care of my dad for a while. I’d always cooked with my mom before then so I kept doing it for him, just me though. Honestly, it’s usually the little things that make something taste so much better.” Frank watched as she methodically poured the syrup over her pancakes.

 

            “I bet,” Frank tucked into his food, pausing here and there to watch as her right hand clicked over her phone.

* * *

 

            “Okay,” Stevie heaved as she lifted the canvas tote bag over her shoulder, “I’ve gotta go in and catalog some of the new books I ordered; hopefully all of them. But, I’ll be back around,” She paused to look down at her watch, “Four. Only seven hours, I laid out some ibuprofen on the table so just take it after you eat and then again in a couple hours.”

 

            “I think I can make it on my own for a while, be careful.” Frank smiled back at her and watched the door shut behind her. He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh as he heard her locking the door, too. Apparently, I can’t make it on my own.

 

            As he moved in his chair, he tried to strategize in order to cause as little pain as possible. Had Stevie still been there she would have laughed at his stiff posture. Frank thanked the Heavens above that she wasn’t there, as badly as he did want her there, because if she laughed then he would have laughed. He was sure his ribs couldn’t take any more funny business.

 

            Frank hobbled to the couch and carefully laid himself out. He took a few minutes to adjust himself into the most comfortable position he could find given his circumstances. Finally, he rested his head and closed his eyes. In this new place, no matter how warm or inviting it was, or how Stevie it was, he was drowning in the silence that engulfed him. He reached out slightly to reach the remote and turn on an infomercial and turn the volume almost all the way up. Then he was able to close his eyes and eventually convince his body and mind to relax just enough to let him sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie gets an eye-full when she decides to leave the library early and come home.

            Stevie had called off an hour early so she could make sure Frank was okay. Even though he was injured and in a lot of pain, she was happy that she had an excuse to keep seeing him a few days in a row. As she walked up the few steps to her doorway she began the attempt to reign in her excitement. _Okay, calm down. It’s not a big deal. He’s just staying here because he’s hurt, and he doesn’t even like you like that. He barely likes you at all, get it together._

            Stevie carefully stuck the key in the door. She tried to be quiet just in case he was resting. Observing the apartment as she stepped in, she put her bag on the ground (for now) and slipped her shoes off, putting them neatly by the door. The TV was on rather loud and the couch looked a little more mussed than it had before she left, but as far as she could see there was no Frank.

 

            “Frank?” She called his name hesitantly. When there was no response, she rushed to the coffee table to grab the remote and get rid of the background noise. “Frank?” She called his name again, this time much louder and laced with more worry.

 

            As the ruckus dissipated from the television, Stevie could finally hear the faint sound of the shower running. _Oh my god. Give me a heart attack, you giant idiot._ Remembering there were no more towels under the sink, she walked to the closet and grabbed a towel to drape over the bathroom door handle. She was slightly exasperated but her moment of panic had come down and she took a seat at the same barstool Frank sat in for breakfast.

 

            _Oh my god,_ Stevie gripped the edge of the countertop as her thoughts hit her suddenly, _I have a…criminal? In my house. This man could kill me. He could literally kill me. And I’m letting him stay in my house? He could find a way to kill me with a scrunchie or a keychain or-_ Before she could continue to stumble over her running thoughts the bathroom door clicked and Stevie jerked her head toward it. She regretted it immediately.

 

            “Woah, there, you okay? Looks like you seen a ghost or somethin’.” Frank had the audacity to come out of the bathroom with nothing but the plush towel wrapped low around his hips and his dirty clothes tucked under his arm. Although dirty, they had still been re-folded. The dried blood and grime had all been scrubbed from his body so the bruises and cuts Stevie had been doctoring just hours earlier were on better display. They weren’t as hidden. In a way, it was sort of…pretty. Except for some old scars and all his new “trophies,” his skin was flawless. It was the perfect canvas.

 

            Stevie became aware of her situation: knuckles white on the countertop, mouth and eyes both wide open. Quickly, she composed herself and folded her hands politely in her lap. “Uhm, yeah! No ghost,” Her gaze drifted over his body once more, “Clothes. You need some. I can uh, find some old stuff that might fit and then we can go pick some stuff up? Or I can go guess? I know you’re probably not feeling great but-“

 

            “Sounds good to me, just give me whatever you got.” Frank began walking over to her and she couldn’t help but freeze for a split second. It happened too quickly for her to react any sooner. He tossed his folded clothes onto the counter by her lovingly-labeled glass ingredient jars and she jumped. His lip turned up at her reaction and a small chuckle escaped. “A little jumpy today, huh?” Stevie rolled her eyes and pushed away from the bar.

 

            “I don’t keep very many nearly-naked men in my home if you must know. Clashes with the wallpaper, I think.” This time, Stevie smirked and Frank couldn’t help but laugh full on. It was a dumb little joke, but a very Stevie joke. He rested his hip on the edge of the bar to take some weight off of his aching feet as she walked to her room. He listened to the shuffle of her feet and the open and close of drawers, the clinking of hangers in her closet, and in the bathroom, water dripped from the showerhead.

 

            People talked outside, to each other or on their phones, some cars drove past leisurely while others whizzed past and sounded their horns. Normally this was all Frank heard. It was like having someone clashing pots and pans by your head all day and night. Here in Stevie’s apartment, he was still aware, but he wasn’t  _listening_ like he usually had to. Here, he could just push it away. It was something he’d rarely ever been able to do completely.

 

            Stevie popped out from her bedroom and pulled Frank from his thoughts on the unusual comfort he was feeling. Her hair was a little disheveled but her smile was wide and she proudly held a stack of clothes in both hands. She walked over to set the pile down on the back of the couch and first held out a regular t-shirt.

 

            “I still had a few of my dad’s things and you guys are built kinda the same, so you’re in luck.” Folding the shirt back up, she put it back on top of the jeans and delivered them to Frank. “Now get dressed. The contrast between your American warrior body and my timeless wallpaper is obscene.” Her nostrils flared and her lips turned up in a tight smile as she stifled a laugh.

 

            “Okay, okay, sorry I’m such an eyesore,” He threw his hands up in mock defeat. _American warrior body? So she’s really looking._ Frank couldn’t help noticing that she noticed. He walked off with the clothes in hand back into the bathroom, the showerhead still dripping. He dropped the towel into the laundry basket behind the door and quickly moved into the clothes. Once he was dressed, he stared at himself in the mirror and began thinking.

 

Even though his main goal in life, his modus operandi, was to not be seen, it was nice to know that she was looking at him. She was seeing him as an actual person in her life and not just as a passing stranger or a target. It’d been a long time since someone made him _feel_ seen.

 

            _Maybe it’s not a bad idea, you know? To…be around her._


End file.
